Dane
Chris shifted under Dane's glare and snapped. "We sort-of had a blind spot. Not really."
"What the hell kind of answer is 'sort-of'?" Dane asked, leaning forward. "Could you imagine if someone had been waiting for her. Or what if it was me?"
"You wouldn't have left a priority car without talking to the driver," Chris pointed out.
"I don't care—I wasn't the ride! Does he expect every person to be as aware as me?"
"Of course not, but—"
"So, we have a blind spot that hasn't been identified for the four years we've been in this building and we're just lucky it came on the radar now?"
"We knew about the blind spot. We just…never told the staff about it."
Dane sat back, mouth open in disbelief. "You knew about this?"
"Dane, it's a stairwell exit. Of course we knew about it."
"You never told me."
"Because you'd never use it—"
